Bloated
by Callisto Nicol
Summary: Wow. I know the Jedi forbid attachments, but surely they would have taught you about that in case you ran into a situation. And there are female Jedi!


"Master Windu, I have a…question," Anakin Skywalker asked the Jedi Master hesitantly.

"Yes, young Skywalker? What is it?"

"Well, I…I have this memory of my mother…" he hesitated, not sure how to phrase this. Of course, it might be easier if the memory was actually of his mother and not of Padmé, but he couldn't exactly ask the Jedi Master what was wrong with his wife. He might get thrown out of the order, or worse, laughed at because he couldn't figure out what was wrong on his own. "How do I say this… Well, at one point she had been very snappy and yelled a lot. It had only been going on for two, three days, but it still unnerved me because my mother didn't usually yell." Good thing Padmé and Shmi Skywalker were alike in personality. It made the lie a bit more truthful. "Then she was complaining about being bloated and hurting because of cramps, and when I tried to help her sit down she yelled at me to not touch her. Do you know what was going on?"

Master Windu stopped breathing for a moment. "Young Skywalker, why are you asking me this?" he asked sharply.

"Well, see, Obi-Wan would laugh forever at me, Palpatine's busy with the Senate, Jar Jar is, well, Jar Jar, and Senator Amidala is the pro—a woman and women don't like talking about each other very much. That's my entire list of friends and leaves me with only you as an option."

Master Windu rubbed his gleaming forehead, muttering, "Obi-Wan has gotten lax in his training, a problem that must be rectified." Anakin wasn't quite sure he had heard right—how was this Obi-Wan's fault? "Go find your old master, Anakin. This is the sort of thing _he_ should handle." Master Windu pivoted on his heel and hurried away before Anakin could say anything.

Anakin kicked at the floor. Stupid Jedi Master. Should have known he wouldn't be any help. Sighing, the young Jedi ran a hand through his curly hair. He would turn to the Dark Side before he asked Obi-Wan for help. His old master was just too good at knowing what was on Anakin's mind. Obi-Wan and Mother would have gotten along well, Anakin thought dryly to himself. They could both read my mind. But that still left his situation with Padmé, and he was afraid to go home without knowing what afflicted his beloved wife. After all, what if she had a serious disease? She might need medical help! If she had been poisoned, he needed to know so he could track down the poisoner and make him suffer a slow, painful death. Maybe chop off a limb a day until the guy ran out of them, then work on shoulders and hips and who knows what else. Light sabers could be handy little things, if you knew how to use them.

Anakin did not like the situation he found himself in. He and Padmé had been married for two years and didn't get to spend a lot of time together. He and Obi-Wan finally had two weeks on Coruscant and here was hiding from his wife instead of spending every second with her, and he didn't even know why. Since when had Padmé developed such a nasty temper? Maybe she really was sick and she knew it but didn't want him to worry when he was out in battle! That had to be it! Anakin tried snapping his fingers in triumph, but using his mechanical hand didn't work. "Snap," Anakin muttered. "AAAH, stupid hand, I wish you would just snap!" He gave up and snapped his fingers with his other hand. The happy sound resounded in the Jedi Temple. Ah, much better.

Secure in his new knowledge, Anakin hummed to himself as he made his way back to Padmé's apartment. It felt good knowing Padmé was only terminally ill. Knowing the problem made finding a solution—

TERMINALLY ILL?

And she didn't tell him!

Taking off at break-neck speed Anakin raced to the lift that would take him to his beloved. Oh, Padmé, why didn't you tell me? I need every moment I have with you! Arriving at the lift, he angrily smacked the button that would take him to the top floor, but in his haste his hand slipped and he hit seventeen other buttons. He hit his head on the wall. Stupid! Why didn't the elevator have a mind he could manipulate to get him to the top faster? What good was the Force when working with machinery?

Breathe, Skywalker. No good getting angry. Anger leads to hate, leads to suffering, leads to the Dark Side…Leads to stupid elevators taking their stupid time leading to explosions leading to tickets from the Air Patrol leading to an angry wife—

But if Padmé was terminally ill, why the sudden anger? Of course, she could be angry that she was dying. Or maybe she was angry at him for making her suffer more because she couldn't tell him and then complain about her symptoms. But she was complaining anyway!

Finally he reached the top and the doors opened. Hesitantly Anakin set foot in his apartment. He set his other foot down and the lift doors closed. "Padmé?" he called out. A moan sounded from the bedroom. Oh no, she's already dying and I'm not there for her! Panicked, Anakin threw off his Jedi cloak and ran to the bedroom, nearly flying through the doorway. Padmé was on the bed, curled up in the fetal position, eyes closed. "Angel, why didn't you tell me?"

Padmé groaned and opened her eyes to give him a flat stare. "Tell you what?"

"You don't have to lie to me! I can handle it!"

Padmé sat up slowly, wincing slightly. "Tell you what, Anakin? I'm pretty sure there's nothing to tell."

"Nothing to tell! Nothing to tell! Padmé, first you're angry for a several days, then you're bloating and cramping and now you're lying down moaning! I most certainly don't want you to die, but not telling me only makes me worry more!"

Padmé stared at him. "Anakin, did you hit your head?"

This was not the response he was looking for. "No."

"Then you're being perfectly serious?"

Definitely not the response he was looking for. "Yes!"

She laughed.

Padmé was laughing. At him. She was dying and laughing about it! "Padmé," he started angrily, "I really don't think—"

"No, you really don't, do you?" she interrupted, grinning cutely. Almost too cutely. "But I suppose this time it's my fault. But honestly, we've been married for two years now, and you've never— Well, you're either a very lucky man or a very bad husband."

What? Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat?

"What?"

Padmé shook her head. "It's nothing big, Anakin, nothing unusual. I'm just having my period."

Anakin stared blankly. Her what? "Your what?"

It was Padmé's turn to stare. "Wow. I know the Jedi forbid attachments, but surely they would have taught you about that in case you ran into a situation. And there are female Jedi!"

This was a female problem? …A universal female problem? Padmé wasn't going to die? That was the best news he'd heard all day! Finally laughing himself, Anakin reached down to scoop up his wife and give her a big hug. "ANAKIN SKYWALKER DO NOT TOUCH ME!" she hollered. He immediately released her and she grabbed her abdomen. "Oh, you stupid Jedi, that hurt," she whined.

"I'm sorry, Angel, I'm just glad to know you aren't terminally ill!"

"Is that honestly what you thought?" He nodded. "Ani, you should have just talked to me! I bet you spent all day thinking I was going to die for no good reason!"

"Well, maybe…"

"I hope you didn't do anything stupid, like ask Obi-Wan what was happening to me."

"No, I didn't ask Obi-Wan…" Thankfully it was true. Padmé had a lie detector like no other. "Is there anything I can do for you, Angel?"

She put her head on a pillow and smiled up at him. "No, but thank you for offering. I'm just going to have to suffer until this is over."

Until? Just how long did this period thing take? "And how long will that be, Angel?"

"Oh, a few more days, give or take. Although after the first couple I'm back to my normal self and I just have to wait for the bleeding to stop."

BLEEDING! He didn't see any blood pumping out of any orifice! Where was the blood? Although there was one part of her body he couldn't see. No, no way. Could it be? Could there be blood coming out of… "Oh, ew. Padmé, that is just gross."

"You're telling me!" Padmé sat back up. "Wait, you… You mean to tell me you didn't know anything about a period?" Anakin shook his head. "Nothing at all?" Another shake. "Anakin! How is that even possible? How can you not know about a thing like that and get married?"

"That's required to get married?" Oh great, what else had he missed out on because he was a Jedi? Did women have to go through a gross mutation every fifteen years for who knows what reason? It was possible. He had yet to actually know a woman for fifteen years.

For that matter, was there something about being a man he needed to know? What else hadn't Obi-Wan educated him on during his years as a Padawan? "Anakin," Padmé interrupted his thoughts, "did Obi-Wan ever explain to you how babies are made?"

"Yeah, I got The Talk when I was a kid."

She shook her head. "Did you really get The Talk? Or the watered down version?"

Anakin paused. Was there a good answer to this? "I…don't…know…"

Padmé winced. "Uhh…cramp… Look, sweetie, why don't you go find Obi-Wan and make him explain? I'm going to lie here and feel miserable."

"How about I lie here and feel miserable with you? Because that's preferable to going to Obi-Wan. And you can explain things to me when you're feeling better." Anakin kicked off his boots and crawled on the bed next to Padmé, loosely placing his arms around her.

She turned her head as much as she could to sort of look at him. "How did I end up with you?"

"Well, let's see, there was this assassination attempt and I came and saved your life and you married your knight with the shining limb…"

Wonder where the inspiration for this came from? I was feeling like Padmé and I find it very therapeutic to write about such things. Anywho, I don't own Star Wars, just playing in the universe. Cheers! Calli


End file.
